A Good Father
by RicksIlsa
Summary: Charming's POV of Emma's birth and escape


Title: A Good Father  
>Author: RicksIlsa<br>Rating: G  
>Pairing(s)Character(s): Snow/Charming, Baby Emma  
>Spoilers: If you've seen the first episode, you're good.<br>Warnings: None  
>Disclaimer: Do not own<br>Summary: Charming's POV of Emma's birth and escape.

A Good Father

"Emma. Her name is Emma."

James did his best to hide a frown as he led his wife away from the crazy little imp and his dungeon. So many things were weighing heavily on his mind, but at the moment it seemed to be the thing that should be the most inconsequential was bothering him the most. Of course Snow picked up on it right away.

"What it is?" She asked him once they were alone in their chambers.

He shrugged and fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt avoiding her eyes.

"Charming..."

Snow sighed and grabbed his hand, pulling his arm around her. His other arm followed automatically and soon she was snuggled up against him, her firm, round belly pressed into him.

James dropped a kiss on her forehead and then pulled back to look into those deep brown eyes that always seemed to see into the depths of his soul. He could keep nothing from her. He didn't want to.

"A girl?" He asked, finally.

She laughed, and he could feel the ripple of movement from his child, his _daughter_, as she moved in Snow's stomach as if she shared her mother's amusement.

"That's what has you all frowny?"

James gave her a small smile and tightened his arms around her. Despite how silly he felt over his confession, it was nice to hear her laughter again.

"Yes. Not that I'm not thrilled at having a daughter... You've been saying for months that the baby was a boy, and that's what I've been preparing for," he told her.

"Preparing? How will your preparations be different for a girl?"

He thought of the toys, games, weapons and other things he had already had the carpenters and metal-smiths start to make. His eyes flicked to the corner of the room where an ancient sword was mounted in its sheath. It had been handed down to the first born son in his family for countless generations.

Snow followed his gaze and laughed again.

"What, you don't think our daughter will want the sword? Have you forgotten who her mother is?"

He smiled at that, remembering the first time they met. Her hand reached up to trace the scar she had given him that day and he turned his head to place a kiss on her fingers.

"I'm sorry. It seems such a silly thing to concern myself with when there are much bigger obstacles at hand."

James wished he could take back the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. The gentle smile fell from her lips and the worry that had clouded her features since their wedding day swiftly returned.

He kissed her before she could speak.

"No. I will summon a council and we will discuss our options tonight. For now, you rest."

Snow sighed and gave a weak sound of protest.

"Charming..." she gasped as he suddenly swept her off of her feet and carried her to the bed, settling her on the soft downy blankets.

"Rest. Our daughter needs to be strong and healthy if she's to live up to her mother's reputation," he teased and gave her another kiss.

Snow yawned and James began running his fingers through her long black hair. It was something he did almost every night and, as usual, she quickly dropped off to sleep with a small smile on her lips.

James watched her for a moment and then dropped to a knee so that he was eye level with his wife's stomach.

He rested a hand on the round belly and smiled at the movement he felt beneath his hand.

"Little Emma, I swear I will do my best to be a good father. We may not wrestle, race, or hunt like I had been planning..." he stopped and gazed up at Snow's sleeping face consideringly for a moment, "or maybe we will. But if you prefer princess dresses with bows, lace and ribbons, and playing tea, then we can do that too. I'll read you bedtime stories every night and get you a kitten to play with. I'll teach you to ride and to swim. And if you get hurt or sick I'll stay with you 'til you're well. We'll sing and play and laugh..." he trailed off and leaned forward to place a kiss on Snow's belly.

James got to his feet and took a deep breath.

"... But first, I have to take care of a few things."

He squared his shoulders and walked from the room to begin preparations for the council meeting.

Snow sighed and wiped a tear from her eye, feeling more in love with her Prince Charming than she ever had before.

* * *

><p>James' head swirled with a myriad of emotions. The evil witch was enacting the curse, at this very moment she and her henchmen were headed to the castle. His only thought had been to get Snow to the safety of the wardrobe. But it was too late. The baby, Emma, was coming and Snow could not be moved.<p>

He felt helpless as he watched his wife writhe and scream in agony. There was so much blood, and she looked to be in so much pain, James knew there must be something wrong. But Doc only gave him a reassuring smile, and encouraged Snow to keep pushing.

"She's doing fine," the little dwarf told him.

And then Emma arrived.

Time seemed to slow as the dwarf cleaned and bundled the infant in a soft blanket. Doc handed the baby to Snow and she and James shared one brief look of loving wonder before both turned their gazes to the now squalling infant.

His Emma was miniature perfection. James ran his finger over the soft skin of her cheek and then her arm. The little fist was barely big enough to clench around the tip of his finger, but it did so with a strength that surprised him. Her eyes opened briefly between cries, and he was delighted to see their color matched that of Snow's almost perfectly.

It was a moment that seemed to last an eternity. The moment they became a family. He felt so full of love and life and all the good things of the world that he thought he might burst.

But the darkness was already starting to push away at the golden haze that surrounded them. He took in the sight of his wife and daughter, _his girls,_ and committed it to memory. He would hold onto this moment forever. It didn't matter what happened to him, because he had had this. For an instant he had everything he'd ever wanted. And if it could happen once, it could happen again...

* * *

><p>James ran; Emma was clutched in one arm, his sword in the other. His heart broke at the sobs and screams coming from Snow and it took all his will power to not turn around and keep his family together. It was what all his instincts were telling him to do.<p>

He turned a corner and with dread realized that the time for battle had come.

James had always prided himself on being an adept swordsman. He had never feared injury or death at the hand of another, and had believed that fearlessness was what made him so good. He was wrong.

Every blow he deflected, every swing he ducked, and every thrust he side-stepped was filled with absolute terror. He held the most precious of treasures in his arm and one wrong move would mean the unthinkable. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, came the courage. He was still afraid, terrified even, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting Emma to the safety of the wardrobe. He felled his foes, barely feeling the sting of the sword wound to his shoulder until he had reached his goal.

'I'm sorry, Emma,' he thought as he carried her to the wardrobe.

'I'm sorry, but I won't be reading you bedtime stories, or having tea parties. I won't be the one to teach you to ride or swim. And I won't be there when you are sad or sick. Instead I must selfishly ask for you to come and save me. But I swear, I will spend every moment of the rest of my life making it up to you. You just have to find me first. Find us.'

He placed her gently inside and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.

"Find us."

He barely shut the doors before more henchman caught up to him and the fight resumed. But with his task completed, a weariness of acceptance had descended over him and he began to lose the will to defend himself. Perhaps death would be kinder than the witch's curse.

The mortal blow sent him to the ground. The pain was unimportant as he watched his enemies turn toward the wardrobe. He held onto consciousness long enough to see that Emma had vanished. The magic had worked.

James allowed the darkness to overtake him with smile on his lips. He slipped onto whatever awaited him, content in the knowledge that he had kept his promise to be a good father.

End


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